


We Could Be

by starchase



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, just a moment in time, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 18:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starchase/pseuds/starchase
Summary: Somehow the tension had been there between them, a heavy burden weighing the air around them, filling them with its overwhelming scent of 'I want but can’t have'.





	We Could Be

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not really an ignoct shipper, I've never read fic for them, and this is my first attempt at writing for them, but this idea just struck me and wouldn't leave my head until I wrote it out? So it's also a little bit of a writing experiment, to write for something I don't personally ship. I hope it turned out okay? I tried!

Ignis cannot tear his eyes away. He feels a fluttering of shame inside his chest, pressing against his ribcage, insistent that Ignis knows it's there. But even so, he just can't bring himself to look away. It's something he wishes to admire – does – admire, but something he feels he shouldn't. Knows he shouldn't, and knows very well. He's spent his entire life raising this man to royalty, to one day become king, not to lay like he is right now in Ignis' bed, looking comfortable and right at home, lips quirked into an enticing smirk, the hem of his shirt rucked up a little across his stomach.  
  
He's never expected this, never even dared hope, not in the deepest, darkest part of his heart, the tiny corner Ignis has reserved only for himself, and far too often, ignores because his life isn't for himself. He's never complained, he never will, he loves his prince too much.  
  
Loves him too much to indulge in what Noctis seems to so freely be offering to him.  
  
“Specs,” Noctis says, voice dipping into the edge of the petulant whine that Ignis is so very, very used to after all these years. What he's not used to is hearing that whine while Noctis looks like this. “Will you stop staring and just come here? It's freaking me out.”  
  
Ignis blinks, swallows thickly, tries to pull his gaze away. It's hard, but he's grown very used to not looking at what he can't have, what he shouldn't want. He's really not sure, now that he thinks about it, quite how they got here, what steps had led up to this particular moment, and where he might have taken the wrong turn. To be fair, though he isn't often fair when it comes to himself, Noctis had been the one to come into Ignis' room, and somehow, impossibly, maneuver his way into this position, lying across the bed.  
  
They haven't touched yet, not even an accidental brushing of limbs. Noctis was never very tactile, and Ignis was careful. But somehow the tension had been there between them, a heavy burden weighing the air around them, filling them with its overwhelming scent of _I want but can't have_. And somehow, Noctis has decided to take that weight between his own two hands, and try to crush it out of existence, with the single act of all but offering himself to Ignis, in a moment and a movement that Ignis cannot comprehend.  
  
He's still the same old Noctis that Ignis knows all too well though, even in this moment, with his whining and his scowling and his demands. That, Ignis can deal with. It's the heat behind those dark blue eyes, aimed at him, that Ignis doesn't know what to do with. It's a situation he's never encountered, and one of the few he's never truly considered, never had to work out how he might react and what he would do. Because Ignis has never dared to imagine this, really.  
  
“Apologies, your Highness,” Ignis says, out of habit more than anything, and it sounds ridiculous, those words, hanging in the weight stretched out between them, because Noctis hasn't been able to vanquish it yet.  
  
Those blue eyes narrow at him, clearly displeased – it's how Noctis looks at him whenever Ignis tries to make him eat something seemingly healthy and nutritious.  
  
“Don't,” Noctis says, and there's something in his voice, something different than the displeasure in his eyes. Nervousness? Ignis can't help but watch as Noctis' tongue licks his lips; definitely nervous. “Not now,” Noctis says, voice a little shaky, and Ignis knows his charge would be severely displeased to know his nonchalant facade wasn't holding up under this scenario. “Can't we just...?”  
  
Noctis can't finish, his eyes dart from Ignis' face, look away, anywhere else, but Ignis thinks he understands what Noctis wants to say: can't we just be Noctis and Ignis?  
  
Can they? Ignis wonders. It would be terribly inappropriate, a mistake of massive proportions, he's sure, and just a downright, bloody bad idea, he knows. But perhaps, for just a moment, they might suspend time, and steal something, something small and secret, just for themselves.  
  
He wonders all this absently, even as he knows, deep down, how he won't allow himself that luxury. He shifts, he's been sitting on the edge of the bed, body angled away from the temptation of Noctis before him.  
  
“Ignis.”  
  
Against his better judgement, it pulls his attention back, hearing his name in Noctis' voice like that, a sound he's never heard before. It calls him like a siren, tempting but dangerous.  
  
When had this started, he wonders. When had he begun to ignore such burrowing, growing thoughts? When had Noctis? Because this, Ignis knows, this is new, this is a recent development. He's not sure when it had started, but he can trace back, over the course of the past few months, this thing, the weight, developing and growing between them. Each time Noctis trained that heated gaze on Ignis, at a distance, always, had added to the weight. And, he hates to recall it – he loves to recall it – there had been a moment, only a couple scant weeks ago, of Noctis getting far closer than necessary to Ignis, to move past him in a hallway that had more than ample room for two men to move down, but Noctis had brushed up close, their shoulders barely touching, and still Ignis had felt every inch that wasn't in contact between them, as a sudden flush of fire. He'd heard Noctis pull in a breath, harsh, fast, as if dealing with a sensation he hadn't quite expected. Ignis had thought it was Noctis testing a boundary, pushing at a limit they wouldn't admit to.  
  
He's pushing limits again now.  
  
Ignis' eyes meet Noctis'. He knows, without having to think it, he just knows, he's already tumbled, and there's nothing he can do. But he's Ignis Scientia, and he's stubborn, and he doesn't admit to failure.  
  
So it's Noctis who makes the first move, who seems to assess that it needs to be him, in the look they share. He's far more perceptive sometimes than he likes to let on, and Ignis can't help but feel a little bit pleased that some of his tutelage has had an effect; although he never intended for Noctis to perceive things about himself, certainly.  
  
Noctis lifts his arms, it's an awkward, almost robotic motion, he's definitely nervous, Ignis can see it in the way Noctis' adam's apple bobs in his throat, swallows heavily. It's awkward because they don't ever really touch each other, apart from sometimes a gentle, comforting hand on Noctis' shoulder, when his mind is too distracted, too upset, to care.  
  
Against his will, almost as if he's programmed to react to this, as well as to everything else his prince demands of him, Ignis bends his body down towards Noctis', and those open arms loop around Ignis' shoulders. He tries to stifle a gasp, as Noctis' hands settle, palms flat, against his shoulder blades, but it's difficult. That weight between them not only feels heavy, but now it feels thick, as well, substantial; it's sticky and cloying but warm with an electric buzz, and Ignis can't ignore it any longer.  
  
Noctis pulls Ignis down, his grip is tentative, soft, as if he's unsure about every move he's making; Noctis is unsure, Ignis reminds himself, he's an eighteen year old boy. Ignis ignores the fact that he isn't much older, because he's never felt his age, and especially so around Noctis.  
  
He's hesitant, uncertain with every move, but Noctis seems determined all the same, and Ignis allows himself to be pulled down, until he's leaning close over Noctis. There comes a point where Ignis has to brace himself against the bed, and in a slow, careful, motion, he places his arms either side of Noctis. It brings them closer than Ignis had anticipated. Noctis' arms are still around him, an awkward touch at his back, and their faces are brought close together.  
  
Ignis wonders what's happening to that weight, because he knows it hasn't left them, that it still exists, and he wonders if perhaps they're just pressing it tight, squashing it, between their bodies, as they try to ignore its presence.  
  
He can't tear his eyes away. Much the same problem as brought them here in the first place. Noctis licks his lips, but he's got his brave face on now, putting on a front, as he makes a show for Ignis that he knows what he's doing. It's a shame for Noctis, that Ignis has known him for so long, and knows him so well, because he sees right through it. It's fortunate for Noctis that Ignis let's him keep that front. He doesn't want to shatter the moment, even though he knows he should.  
  
Noctis tilts his face towards Ignis, a look in his eyes, lips slightly parted, expectant. Ignis isn't sure, but like this, he can't deny that he wants to, because he does, and Noctis is here, right before him, all but inviting Ignis to take this moment. It's like wading through jam, Ignis thinks, as he leans down closer, that weight between them almost resistant, hard to pass through. But somehow, with Ignis leaning down, and Noctis leaning up, they manage to meet in the middle, and their lips connect.  
  
It's chaste, just a brush of their lips together, but it overwhelms Ignis, as something he's never dared to even imagine before. It takes his breath away.  
  
When they pull apart moments later, faces still close, Ignis stares down at Noctis intensely. He's unsure what to do with himself, what to do now, when he realises quite suddenly that the weight between them has gone. He doesn't know where, but the sudden freedom from it is strange and unsettling. Noctis must feel it too, Ignis thinks, because he's eyes are almost shining in wonder, as he looks up into Ignis' face.  
  
It seems with that simple action, that connection between their bodies they've never indulged in before, is enough to disperse the weight they've been carrying, and now Ignis finds it even more difficult to keep his resolve. That, and Noctis' hands are moving in slow, easy, circles against Ignis' back, almost soothing him into this moment together. Ignis closes his eyes, pulls in a deep breath, before it leaves him with a shudder. When he opens his eyes again it's to Noctis' face, so near his own, eyes trained on Ignis' face.  
  
“Kiss me,” Noctis says. Not quite a demand, not quite a question. He wants Ignis to do it, but he won't make him do it.  
  
And, perhaps it makes him a terrible person, perhaps the Gods will have something to say about this error in judgement, perhaps he can tell himself later he was simply doing as his prince asked. He tries to put all of those thoughts aside, however, as he finds himself leaning back in towards Noctis, as if he's inexplicably drawn to this man beneath him, unable to help himself.  
  
When they kiss again, Noctis let's out a sigh against Ignis' lips, as if this was a long time coming and Ignis has kept him waiting. The press of their lips is firmer this time, as Ignis' mouth moves slowly together with Noctis'. It's a heady feeling, as he kisses Noctis with care, and Ignis' mind is all but consumed within this moment, this point of contact between them. A long moment passes where all it is is this, the warmth of Noctis' lips, their breaths mingling, a slow, steady something building up between them, filling the void that the weight has left behind.  
  
When Ignis pulls away, it's clear that Noctis feels much the same as Ignis does, his face is hot, his breaths coming in heavier pants. It's a sight before him that Ignis never thought to see, and it's all too intoxicating, now that he's witnessed it.  
  
Noctis' leg taps against Ignis', and he realises then that he's still half sitting on the bed, his upper body leaning over Noctis, as if he's only half here, when Noctis is laid out before him.  
  
“Do you wanna, like, move or something?” Noctis asks, and he sounds entirely normal, except for the hushed quality to his words, as if speaking too loudly may unsettle whatever this is brewing between them.  
  
He should say no. Instead, Ignis says, “If that's what you want.”  
  
Noctis makes a face. “Can we cut the formalities?”  
  
Ignis can agree to that, he thinks, because it's far too strange, and a little unsettling, in a moment like this. “Apologies,” he murmurs. He shifts himself, one leg sliding between Noctis' own, until Ignis is settled on top of him, bringing them closer even than they have ever been before. Ignis feels his body shudder at every touch between their bodies, thighs pressed together, Noctis' torso cradled between his arms. They stare at each other, as they take a moment, let this start to sink in. It suddenly feels massive, to Ignis, something large and indescribable that he has no rights to.  
  
But Noctis won't allow that. “Quit it,” he says, and that, Ignis thinks, is one of Noctis' demands, though he could be asking about anything, that huff of annoyance as likely to be heard after Ignis tells him no more video games, or that he must actually attend a political meeting. Not as if he's asking Ignis to forget about his position and his role, as they press closer still together.  
  
“Alright,” he agrees. He'll try.  
  
He feels Noctis relax beneath him, then. And then, Ignis feels something else entirely, as Noctis pushes his hips up, a gentle, almost experimental meeting of their bodies. It's still enough to pull a soft sound of surprise from Ignis. He sees a slight smile on Noctis' face, even as he too gasps at the sensation. Then, he pushes his hips up again, a little harder this time, and without thinking, Ignis feels his own rock down in answer, searching for more of that touch; every time their hips meet, a spark jolts through Ignis' body. It seems Noctis feels something similar, Ignis thinks, by the look on his face. Surprised but pleased.  
  
Noctis' hands are moving now, a little hesitantly, because this is so very new to them, touching for the sake of touching, for enjoyment. It's an undiscovered country, and Noctis' searching fingers are trying to find the lay of the land.  
  
Ignis shivers beneath each touch.  
  
He feels Noctis hands on his neck, feels as fingers slide beneath the collar of Ignis' shirt, settling for a moment in the crook between neck and shoulder. A tantalising touch, and Ignis allows himself a hum of encouragement.  
  
Noctis' hands pull out, fingers beginning to undo the buttons of Ignis' shirt. His eyes meet Ignis', a silent question, and Ignis nods in response. There is no turning back from this moment now, Ignis knows, as they're both drawn towards each other, down this road they've never travelled before.  
  
Ignis lets out a long, shaking breath, when Noctis parts his unbuttoned shirt, leaves it hanging open and off Ignis' shoulders, and simply stares at him. Ignis wants to blush, having never been the subject of such intense scrutiny before, not in this sense, or this scenario. He's never been admired, and it makes Ignis feel vaguely uncomfortable, even if his own eyes are doing the same thing to Noctis with every glance.  
  
Noctis reaches up with one hand, smooths it over Ignis' bare skin. Ignis sucks in a sharp breath, when Noctis' fingers slide over one of his nipples,  
  
Seemingly emboldened by this, Noctis leans up and begins to press kisses across Ignis' skin, and his lips leave little lines of sparks and fire on Ignis' body.  
  
Ignis' hand is on Noctis' hip, his grip tightening at the pleasure that begins to unfold within him, with each and every press of Noctis' mouth against him. The tips of Ignis' fingers slip just beneath the hem of Noctis' shirt, stroke gently across the small strip of skin just above the waistband of his pants. He feels Noctis shiver against him, at that simple touch. Is it as overwhelming for Noctis, as it is for him, Ignis wonders. He'll never ask.  
  
He feels himself start to grow hard, where he's pressed against Noctis' thigh. There's a similar pressure in return, against Ignis. It sends his head spinning, as he realises, fully realises, and properly appreciates, the moment they are in right now, with Noctis tonguing a hot path down Ignis' chest, and their bodies flushed and hard against each other.  
  
It's almost as if Noctis can sense this within Ignis, because he pauses, whispers against Ignis' skin, “You can touch me, you know.” It's as if Noctis can see almost as well through Ignis, as Ignis has always been able to see through Noctis. The thought disturbs him, but then Noctis' tongue is circling a nipple, and Ignis hasn't a moment to appreciate that thought.  
  
Noctis' words remind Ignis how, for this entire time, he's been an open invitation towards him, one Ignis has been too afraid to properly accept. But there's that heat building up between them, settling against them, and Noctis' mouth is only adding fuel, so Ignis accepts the invitation for what it is.  
  
His hand slides down, over Noctis' pants, presses briefly, almost teasingly, against him. Ignis feels Noctis buck up into his hand, even at just being touched over his clothes like that. He's more worked up than Ignis realises, and that thought settles within him, low and hot.  
  
“Yes,” Noctis says. Ignis feels those words against his skin, and shivers.  
  
Ignis feels himself a little adrift, unsure of himself, of this situation. He knows about it, knows how things are supposed to happen and supposed to work, but Ignis has no practical experience, and it leaves him feeling unsteady. He's supposed to be a pillar of knowledge and support, of aid and instruction, but he feels much like Noctis must right now. There aren't many times in his life, since he was a small child, that Ignis has felt quite like this, and of course, the times he has always seem to involve Noctis in some way.  
  
Always his weak point, he thinks. Always his strong point, he knows. Always his, he feels.  
  
Noctis presses up against Ignis' hand, tries to pull Ignis out of his thoughts and back into this moment. It works, and Ignis feels his attention snap back forcefully to Noctis. His face is pressed against Ignis' chest, as he spreads hot, wet little kisses across Ignis' skin.  
  
“Stay with me,” Noct murmurs, voice soft, and yet it sounds almost like a command, almost like a plea. Ignis is helpless to do anything but what is asked of him.  
  
Instead of words, he answers by wrapping his fingers in Noctis' shirt, separates that wonderful mouth from his skin – briefly but oh, so reluctantly – and pulls the fabric up and off. Their arms go around each other again, and Ignis is sure that Noctis' gasp is just the same as his own, when their bare skin meets. It's so different, Ignis thinks, feeling Noctis' warm, naked skin against his own. He can feel Noctis' chest heave against his with each gasping breath. Ignis is sure Noctis can feel his own in return. It's an exhilarating, head-spinning sensation.  
  
Their mouths meet again, their kisses more desperate this time, a needy edge to them. Somehow, between these kisses – each one sending Ignis' mind spiralling further and further from himself – they manage to maneuver each other out of their pants, and now they're left in only their underwear, bodies pressed close, legs tangled together, as near as they've ever been with each other.  
  
It's enough to send Ignis reeling, this moment, his body pressed so close against Noctis'. To see Noctis like this, almost naked beneath him, gasping for breath, cheeks flushed and lips wet from all their kissing. Ignis wonders if he looks very similar, because Noctis' eyes keep roving over his face, as if memorising every little detail. It's enough to make him squirm, though he doesn't mean to, and he finds himself accidentally rubbing his hardness against Noctis' own. It pulls a heavy gasp from the both of them, Noctis' body jerking beneath Ignis.  
  
“Sorry,” Ignis begins, worried, but Noctis is shaking his head.  
  
“No. It's...it's good.” His voice sounds soft, awed, and Ignis feels much the same way.  
  
Instead of words, he finds himself nodding in agreement. For once, Ignis thinks he might have no words for this, only feelings, and those, he realises, he has so, so many of.  
  
“Here,” Noctis says, fingers reaching for Ignis' face. Carefully, he pulls the glasses from Ignis' face, sets them aside on the bedside table. “They were getting in the way.”  
  
“Very inconvenient, for all the kissing,” Ignis agrees, not meaning to make a joke, although it's true.  
  
Noctis' face crinkles into one of genuine, if soft, laughter, and Ignis feels his heart grow inside his chest, constrict his breathing, at the sight. It's not often, he knows, to see Noctis smile so fully.  
  
“You're beautiful,” Ignis finds himself saying, without meaning to. His cheeks flush a little, perhaps that had been too honest.  
  
But Noctis flushes, glances away, and Ignis knows he doesn't mind. “Ah, Specs,” he says. It sounds so normal, as if they aren't lying here in Ignis' bed, almost naked, bodies tangled together. But they are, and neither of them can ignore this fact.  
  
“Well,” Ignis says. Because it's true, and if nothing else, Noctis should hear that truth this night.  
  
Ignis places his hands on Noctis' hips, lets himself revel in this moment, where he can touch and look and kiss what he's never been able to before. Then he presses down with his hips, against Noctis, feels as the both of them rub against each other again, and nothing else matters except for this, this overwhelming feeling, that burns through Ignis' veins at the touch.  
  
He feels himself, hard, against Noctis' own erection. It's a dizzying thought, that they've brought each other to this moment. That he seems to inspire just as much desire within Noctis, as Noctis does from Ignis. He's never really considered that before, desire, want, hunger, for himself. It's strange, but he can feel it there, in the press of Noctis' hips; see it within those dark blue eyes, now focused once again so intently on Ignis' face; can hear it in the soft sounds Noctis makes every time their bodies rub and touch and press together.  
  
One of Noctis' hands winds into Ignis' hair, which has fallen somewhat flat since their endeavour began in earnest. Ignis feels himself tremble, as fingers slide against his scalp, brush through his hair.  
  
“You like that?” Noctis says, eyes glinting suddenly as he observes Ignis. He feels then as those fingers tighten their hold, and a gasp falls from Ignis' lips. His scalp and neck are tingling with pleasure. “Yeah.” Noctis grins now, pleased. “You do.”  
  
Not to be outdone, not to have the only one whose secrets are suddenly laid bare, Ignis rocks his hips down harder, and Noctis moans, louder than expected, but the sound shudders down Ignis' spine. “And I suppose you like that.”  
  
Noctis shivers in Ignis' hold. “As if you don't.”  
  
Ignis pretends to consider for a moment, and enjoys the sight of Noctis narrowing his eyes at him. It's funny, how even in this moment, so far removed from anything else they've ever shared before, and still Noctis can be his usual self, and in turn, Ignis is finding it easier to be himself also.  
  
He laughs then, a soft breath of air more than anything else, and leans down to kiss Noctis, soundly and sweetly upon the lips. It's answer enough, he thinks.  
  
As they continue to exchange kisses, each one deepening as they return for more, the heat builds between them again, and Ignis begins to rock his hips in earnest now against Noctis'. The friction is a sweet irritation, only adds to the heat, as they press and rub together. Noctis feels so hard, beneath the fabric of his underwear, and Ignis knows how hard he himself is by now. It's almost painful. But it's wonderful, also, Ignis thinks.  
  
He tightens his grip on Noctis' waist, as they rock together, their gasps and moans falling between the press of their lips. There's a needy edge to their kissing now, desperate and hot, as everything slowly begins to escalate. They move faster against each other now, Ignis feeling himself shake, as his cock rubs and moves against Noctis' own. Fingers tighten in Ignis' hair, pulling another soft sound from him with every tug.  
  
It's a little awkward, clearly unpractised, but it feels so good that neither of them notice, or if they do, there's no room to care. Everything boils down to them, to Noctis' body beneath his own, to every sound he makes, every breath he heaves, every press of his fingers, his lips, his body, against Ignis. In this moment, Noctis has consumed his entire being. He pretty much always has all of Ignis' mind, but here he's finally managed to have Ignis' body, too. Ignis finds himself oh so willing to let Noctis have him, if that's what Noctis wants.  
  
Noctis' lips leave Ignis', and move to slide down Ignis' neck, kissing and nipping at his skin, and it's obvious that yes, this is what Noctis wants.  
  
Faster they move then, the pressure building up to almost unbearable levels, as they let go, surrender to the pleasure of the press of their bodies, the rocking of their hips, Noctis' lips on his neck and fingers in his hair.  
  
It doesn't take them long, it's all too hot, to exquisite, and they're inexperienced young men, carried away in the pleasure, with electricity pulsing hotly through their veins. With Noctis' name on his lips, Ignis comes, body jerking down against Noctis, as he shudders and groans and experiences something so much better than he ever has before. It's only moments before Noctis joins him, gasping sweetly, trembling and shaking beneath the press of Ignis' body.  
  
His head is spinning, full of Noctis, and this moment, and nothing has ever felt so wonderful to Ignis before, so purely wonderful. He slumps down beside Noctis, chest heaving with the effort to breathe. He feels as Noctis tugs him into his arms, keeps Ignis close beside him. He doesn't mind.  
  
“Ignis,” Noctis whispers, and he sounds dazed. Ignis feels the same.  
  
He leans over, presses a sweet kiss to Noctis' cheek. “I know.”  
  
They lay their, quietly entwined, just breathing. It takes some time for Ignis' head to stop spinning and return to Eos once again. He wonders if Noctis feels much the same.  
  
As the flush and heat of their stolen moment begins to fade, breathing starts to become easier, bodies relaxing after the satisfied release, Ignis begins to realise something. It's there, that weight, as it begins to resume its place between them once again. Ignis pulls in a harsh breath, surprised, dismayed. What had he thought, that perhaps in giving in to their whim that it would have disappeared for good? It seems that all they had done in satisfying their urges had complicated things further. The weight begins to press down harder than ever upon Ignis, makes it difficult to breathe, harder to feel anything now but guilt.  
  
“Ignis?” Noctis says again, and this time he sounds worried. Ignis can't meet his eyes, doesn't wish to see his own feelings reflected back at him.  
  
But he can't lie to his prince, to his responsibility, to the man his entire life has been centred around serving and aiding.  
  
He pulls in a deep breath. It hurts, he realises. It hurts to think that this will always sit between them. Heavier now, for their moment of weakness. He feels Noctis' arms tighten their hold around him, and Ignis shivers, releases the breath he'd pulled in. His hand finds Noctis', as he loosely tangles their fingers together.  
  
“I know,” he says again, the weight in his words now. “I know, Noct.”


End file.
